


Crafting You, Piece by Piece

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: (sorta angst), (sorta humor), Angst, Entitled Shenanigans, F/M, Humor, Jupiter Ascending Fic Challenge, Time Loop, Time Travel, basically Jupiter at it again with the getting-in-trouble thing, will eventually fill the actual prompt and be something resembling a love story I sWEAR
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6178702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Entitled of old are nothing like their Abrasax namesakes, there's a test underway, and Jupiter is left somewhere in the past, trying desperately to keep Caine whole</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again with starting more fics eh, Katie? 
> 
> I'd hoped to finish this in one go... but illness and work got the best of me. This also isn't turning out ANYTHING like what I pictured, so sorry for the mess of inaccurate ideas slammed down on paper??
> 
> Hope you enjoy anyway!

“This is outrageous!” Nesh yelled on her behalf. At least, that’s the feeling Jupiter got out of the shout. She didn’t actually speak elephant, but Nesh’s ears were pinned forward like an angry cat’s, he was waving his blaster about, and his expression, bearing human eyes, positively screamed righteous fury, so... yeah. 'Outrageous' seemed like a decent translation.

 

Jupiter thought the whole thing was a bit dramatic. It was just a bracelet.

 

She turned the bit of jewelry round and round on her wrist. It was thin, brittle looking, but definitely made out of solid metal. With the black coloring Jupiter couldn’t figure out where the clasp was and it was too small to slip off her hand. Still, she gave it another, experimental tug.

 

“Stop touching it,” T’sing snapped, but it was Caine’s hands that gently pulled hers away. He squeezed reassuringly. Which was weird, because Jupiter still wasn’t sure what the problem was.

 

She was the only one still sitting down, in the captain’s chair that T’sing had guided her into moments before. Everyone else flanked Jupiter in a protective semi-circle: Caine on her right and Stinger on her left, T’sing and Nesh beside them, Kiza tacked onto the end and scowling fiercely. All of them radiated a tension that set Jupiter’s teeth on edge.

 

Then of course there were the others. The three directly across from Jupiter, completing the circle. The Entitled.

 

That had come as a bit of a shock, admittedly. She’d always assumed that the name had simply come from the fact that...well...the galaxy’s higher ups _were_ entitled. To resources, Regene-X, cruelty - anything they damn well pleased. Jupiter had never even considered the possibility that someone took the name from a _species_.

 

Jupiter subtly crooked her finger until Stinger bent, leaning in close to hear her. She almost pressed her lips to his ear and whispered,

 

“They look like Nagi.”

 

There was a pause. “I don’t know what that means, Your Majesty,” he whispered back.

 

“World of Warcraft, Dad,” Kiza said, her keen ears picking up on their conversation. She cast the Entitled an appraising look, far bolder than any of the others, and her mouth twisted into a disgusted scowl. “And you’re right, Majesty. Just as ugly.”

 

 _Harsh_. Jupiter wouldn’t call them ugly. Just... intimidating. Thus far she’d only seen species modified with human DNA - splices and the like. This was the first race she’d encountered that was well and truly alien.

 

Large, snake-like bodies colored an almost translucent blue. Green scales covering patches on their sides and down along their tails. They balanced on those tales, upright, but slithered halfway on their chests whenever they needed to move. Up their back and surrounding their faces were manes of wicked spikes, so sharp that Jupiter was sure they must be used as weapons somehow. Their eyes were all too intelligent.

 

They hadn’t boarded the ship. Not up the ramp and not through a transporter beam either. One moment Jupiter and the others were just hanging in the cockpit, the next there were three Entitled standing before them, wreaking havoc all around. Apparently they were a pretty big deal.

 

“It’s where the title comes from,” T’sing had whispered, shaking slightly as her eyes stayed locked on their guests. “The oldest race. Some say the _first_ race. Certainly the most intelligent. They have technology our descendants will only dream about.” Her gaze had skittered across the hull, like she’d miraculously see how they’d managed to board the Aegis while they were just hitting light speed. “Only a few have ever met them in person and those stories are apocryphal at best. Why they’re here...”

 

She’d trailed off, all of them falling into an ecstasy of humbleness that reminded Jupiter too much of Balem - servants scurrying and begging to please him. This had continued as T’sing cleared the cockpit of everyone but their group, as the Entitled spoke to them in a language the computers couldn’t translate, as they approached Jupiter, singling her out.

 

She hadn’t been afraid, exactly. More curious. Jupiter had executed a little bow - a nice, safe gesture when you didn’t know the customs - and waited patiently as the Entitled apprised her. Jupiter hadn’t flinched before their fearsome personas, not even when the one in the middle plucked up her hand and snapped a black bracelet around her wrist.

 

Which was about when everything went straight to hell.  

 

“What did you put on her?” Caine growled now, not for the first time. Wasn’t that Psych 101? People (and splices) fear what they don’t understand? Amazing how quickly they’d gone from reverent to hostile.

 

“Maybe it’s a gift?” Jupiter said. Not that she had any idea why the likes of them would want to give her a present. “Maybe—”

 

“ _Yes_.”

 

The voice made her jump: cold and clear and coming from directly beside her—on both sides. Jupiter whirled to the right randomly and found Caine turning towards her, his own expression equally shocked. Not him then. Not Stinger. On instinct Jupiter turned back to face the Entitled and found the middle one nodding his head.

 

“You...?” she stared.

 

“ _Our apologies. It took us a moment to identify your language. There are so many_.”

 

Jupiter nodded, even as she felt the skin along her back starting to crawl. The sound was definitely coming from either side of her, like there were Entitled whispering in both her ears, but obviously that wasn’t the case and when Jupiter looked again, none of their mouths had moved. She felt as if all three were speaking to her simultaneously... though of course, none of them had.

 

“Is this telepathy?” she squeaked. Jupiter cleared her throat.

 

The two Entitled on the end titled their heads as one. The Entitled in the middle seemed to... smirk.

 

“ _It is communication_ ,” they said. Thought. Echoed inside Jupiter’s mind. “ _It is not important. You are right, Little One. It is a gift_.”

 

“Little One?” Caine growled, shaking his head like a dog trying to get water out of his ears. He scratched furiously.

 

“Everyone is little compared to them,” T’sing pointed out.

 

“ _Everyone is Young_ ,” the Entitled corrected and their group stilled, eyes wide, too aware that the voices in their heads had doubled in volume. The head Entitled slithered forward, heading straight for Jupiter.

 

“You can’t—” Stinger said weakly, but within a second he too had backed away. The Entitled inched even closer.

 

“ _We are Old, Little One. Ancient. We were here long before your first microorganism and we will be here long after you’ve turned to dust_.”

 

“Contratz.” Jupiter gulped.

 

“ _Your species took our Name for their own. We do not care. Their theft is inconsequential. They are Tiny. Their actions are Tiny... but there are many of them and with Small actions comes Big change_.”

 

Jupiter knew exactly what they were saying. Her mind immediately filled with the image of an ant mound, thousands of them swarming, a few tugging on the carcass of a wasp, then more, even more, until they were able to move it, the corpse flying across the sand in a parody of life. She didn’t know if the image had come from her own thoughts or the Entitled, but whoever’s it was, it made Jupiter shake.

 

There was something to be said for banding together. Obviously. Jupiter knew that from personal experience. But there was a sense about the image that made her think of subjugation, not cooperation. The ants were an invasive swarm, not a union. They were Entitled. Not the Entitled that stood before her now, but the ones that had caused such torment throughout the universe. They were _pests_. 

 

The Entitled nodded, wicked spikes bending towards Jupiter. For the first time she thought she saw something resembling approval pass its features... though that may have been a trick of the light. Or simple arrogance: a human girl projecting empathy.

 

“ _We do not approve of their methods_ ,” the Entitled said. “ _Their values. Their means. But they are Small and Young, and we are Large and Old, so we let them be. We do not help, but we do not hinder. You, Little One, are the first we’ve approached._ ”

 

“Whoa, whoa, wait. Back up a second.” Jupiter tried to clear the voices from her head and when she did the others seem to break from their spell too. They closed in, no longer hostile, but simply eager to keep close. Jupiter felt Caine slip his hand into hers, though she didn’t dare look his way.

 

“Me?” she questioned. “Why me? And why... now?”

 

 _Why not when I first became Entitled? Why not when I was in danger? Why not_ help _?_

If any of them heard the accusation in her voice, they chose to ignore it.

 

“ _You are Young_ ,” the leader repeated. “ _Malleable. Born on a Kinder planet. The others are Entitled in name only. You may be Entitled in spirit. The first - since us_.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Jupiter hadn’t said it. It was Stinger, sharing a knowing, fearful look with Caine, running a hand anxiously through his hair, only looking again at Jupiter when he absolutely had to. He gave a somewhat sheepish shrug. “For all the scary spikes, the Entitled of myth are known for promoting peace. Or,” he gestured, “Not myth, as it turns out. And no, the irony of all this hasn’t escaped me.”

 

“So we trained weapons on the one peace-loving species? Well done.”

 

“In our defense,” Kiza said, hefting her weapon, “they are huge, scary looking, and they did slap something on your wrist which, by the way, _we still don’t know what it is_.”

 

Jupiter nodded. “Point. Response?”

 

“ _It’s Opportunity_ ,” The Entitled said, ignoring Jupiter’s attempts at humor. “ _A Test_.”

 

“Your Majesty…”

 

It was Caine, releasing the words low and fearfully. Jupiter wished she could have looked to him, but the Entitled was looming over her now, in a rather menacing manner, and the Aegis suddenly felt far too small. Cramped and inescapable. Jupiter was frozen, stiff, she knew she couldn’t turn her head, even if she wanted to… and something about the Entitles’ gaze—deep and oh so ancient—ensured the Jupiter didn’t _want_ to. Not at all.

 

Her friends, no more than a foot from her on either side, but they might as well have been miles away. Jupiter swallowed hard around whatever had lodged itself in her throat.

 

“Not really a fan of tests,” she said, voice wobbling.

 

“Your Majesty!”

 

Caine’s voice had become a shout and Jupiter realized why when the Entitled’s face filled her vision, blocking out everyone else. She understood that it was touching her a split second before Jupiter felt the bracelet pulling at her wrist—one long talon, tugging insistently. The Entitled leaned parallel to Jupiter’s head, fangs and oddly minty breath caressing her cheek. Contrasting the painful tug at her left wrist something warm clamping down on her right, the direct opposite of the Entitled and its bracelet and whatever the hell was happening to her. Jupiter clutched at that warmth desperately. 

 

“ _It’s not a test you can fail, Little One_ ,” it said and Jupiter felt a violent pull backward.

 

She dropped. She drowned. She toppled completely, opening her mouth to scream even though she knew nothing could possible come out.

 

Jupiter fell away from them all.


	2. Chapter 2

Jupiter landed amongst a crowd.

 

At least, it certainly felt like she’d landed: that familiar pain as air was driven forcefully from her lungs, the ache in her knees, similar to what was spiking through her ass and her head, a horrible grinding as her teeth clacked together... but when Jupiter opened her eyes she was sitting primly in a seat, identical to all the others around her. No one else seemed to have noticed her arrival.

 

Jupiter blinked.

 

“What the fuck,” she muttered.

 

A woman (woman?) beside her spared Jupiter a nasty glance, then went back to what looked like a holographic magazine. At first glance Jupiter would have definitely said human, female... except that upon closer examination the woman had a dull sheen to her skin, the color not quite natural. When she moved her limbs were slightly jerky and even delayed at times. Jupiter realized with a shock that she was an android, though a primitive model if she had to guess. Looking around, most of the residents seemed to be cybernetic.

 

Residents? Robots? Jupiter felt a cold sweat trickling down her back as she looked around, not recognizing the white walls or any of the beings. The room was bare except for the fifteen-or-so of them and what appeared to be a receptionist’s desk off to the left. Jupiter shut her eyes, remembering the Aegis... uninvited guests... what-what had happened...?

 

She stood, drawing numerous eyes on her now, all of them disapproving. The man at the desk, his machinery actually gave a disgruntled clink.

 

“Please sit,” he intoned. “Wait for your number to be called.”

 

“I—” Jupiter swallowed. “I’m sorry I don’t—where am I—?”

 

“ _Number 696_.”

 

The voice came from the right. Jupiter turned to find a door sliding open, a lynx splice slinking through. She purred the words again: “Number 696.”

 

Jupiter looked down. She was dressed in white pants and a shapeless white shirt. The number 696 was stitched in black atop her heart.

It was the exact same color as the bracelet looped round her wrist.

 

“Follow me, please.”

 

Like she was standing outside her body, Jupiter had a sense of her own eyes blowing wide, her breath stilling in her chest, every muscle seizing up as her fingers delicately rested against the metal. She’d been on the Aegis, hadn’t she? Meeting with...?

 

Jupiter looked up and found that the splice was already halfway down the hall. She wore a pure white lab-coat and black, stiletto heels. The sharpness of those shoes—their points, their weaponry—jogged something else in Jupiter’s mind.

 

The Entitled. Falling.

 

Jupiter gripped the wall to keep from falling again.

 

“Follow me, please.”

 

The lynx was poised a few yards from her, her tone no longer a polite request. Her ears flicked forward in annoyance and Jupiter was disturbed by how that was the most expression she’d seen from the woman thus far. She was just like the cyborgs out in that creepy room, except that her coldness seemed to be out of choice, not programming. Jupiter’s knees shook like Jell-O was she straightened back up and stumbled forward.

 

“Wait,” she gasped. “Just hold on a second. I think there’s been some kind of mistake. I’m—”

 

“We don’t accept names here,” the lynx interrupted, voice nearly shocked. “If you would like to take back your donation you may return to the lobby and begin that process. If not, _please follow me_.” She set off again, leaving Jupiter wavering.

 

She remembered now, in bits and pieces, like trying to recreate a jigsaw puzzle with numbed hands, and Jupiter realized with a shock of certainty that she was _very_ far from home.

 

What was there for her back in that lobby? Nothing more or less than what waited ahead of her.

 

She presumed.

 

Jupiter caught up with the lynx, twisting her hands in the white shirt, bracelet clinking. “Do you know where Earth is?” she asked softly, whispering it like a secret. The lynx actually startled briefly at being addressed again, tail curling. “Please. Or the Aegis?”

 

“… I don’t know either of those planets.”

 

“The Aegis is a ship, actually. Captioned by Diomika T’sing. It’s a part of the—”

 

“Why are you talking to me?”

 

The bluntness of her question threw Jupiter off guard, enough that she actually tripped briefly in the white halls. By the time she’d recovered the lynx’s face was impassive again and they had arrived at a grand silver door, like the entrance to the universe’s largest refrigerator. Jupiter titled her head back to try and see it all.

 

“Look,” she said. “Maybe I’m _not_ supposed to talk to you, but I’m... going through something right now, something that’s got my heart going a mile a minute, you know? And I’d really appreciate it if you just explained things to me like I’m a _really_ simple child. What’s this—” The word finally caught up with her. “ _Donation?_ ”

 

The lynx still looked uncomfortable, her tail wrapped firmly around her waist now, but she did glance back at Jupiter as she keyed a code into the door.

 

“You’re at the Wise Splicing Center,” and that’s about all she got out before Jupiter went cold.

 

Well, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to discover the connection there. Jupiter swayed, then looked around wildly like she expected Caine to appear any second now, flying out of this lab’s non-existent shadows to explain what the hell was going on. And why shouldn’t he? Hadn’t he appeared to save her so many times before, always arriving at exactly the right time? Surely there was some sort of sick joke in all this.

 

He didn’t come though—no one did—and Jupiter was left imitating a fish as the lynx finally got the door open, two more codes and an eye scan later. It opened like a refrigerator too, a soundless hinge swinging open to reveal a cloud of air so cold there appeared to be mist. When it cleared, Jupiter’s fish imitation turned into to a rendition of full-on dunce.

 

“Oh god,” she said.

 

Inside were tanks—rows upon rows of tanks that stretched so far back Jupiter couldn’t say where they ended, just that they seemed to be infinite. Each tank had a small control system attached to its front and each control system glowed a healthy, oddly optimistic green. Its what was in the tanks though that had Jupiter trying desperately to regulate her breathing.

 

They were bodies. All of them, though each in various stages of development. It took Jupiter a moment to realize that the area they’d stepped into seemed to just be for embryos, small bundles of cells that floated oblivious in their huge homes. As they moved forward (the lynx confident, Jupiter tripping over her toes) the bodies grew in proportion to the number of tanks, developing torsos, long limbs, the beginnings of an expression. They finally stopped amongst tanks filled with barely definable bodies, pink and wrinkled in the bubbling fluid.

 

“—rather rare,” the lynx was saying and Jupiter jerked back to the present. “We generally only take human DNA from cyborgs, they had their DNA donated from other semi-human beings, passing strands from a few unique donors throughout the ages.” She flicked her ears at Jupiter. “It’s unusual to get a new batch.”

 

“... oh,” Jupiter said.

 

“But we at Wise Splicing prize ourselves on genetic innovation, and this particular batch is heading straight to the legion. The more power we can give these soldiers, the better. I myself am a product of Wise. We are all well bred here.”

 

Despite her otherwise cold demeanor, there was something remarkably proud in the lynx’s voice when she said this. Though Jupiter’s mind balked at words like “bred” and “genetic innovation,” she couldn’t deny that the horror of creating life in this manner may be a purely human experience. The splice before her certainly took no issue with it... and Jupiter knew exactly what sorts of wonderful results this “breeding” produced.

 

Indeed, she knew too well. For all the terrifying oddness of the situation—despite how lost she felt—Jupiter settled herself reading the word engraved on the plaques beneath these tanks.

 

‘ _Lycantant_.’

 

Lycantant #692. Lycantant #693. The entire row before them was made up of lycantants, the beginnings of pointed ears just barely visible. They all hung before her, waiting until this corporation released them to be warriors, body guards, whipping boys of the elite...

 

... and lovers?

 

“Number 696,” the lynx said, seemingly to herself. She ran through a PADD she’d produced from somewhere in her coat. “Your genetics will be added to the corresponding splice. Lycantant 696 is...ah.”

 

Emotion again: surprise this time. Jupiter turned slowly, a part of her already knowing what she’d find. Three tanks down was a splice hanging in his fluid, taking up only half the space offered. He was a third the size of his brothers, limbs fragile looking, nearly as thin as Jupiter was now. She slapped a hand over her mouth to keep a wet gasp from escaping.

 

“A runt.” Disgust had wormed its way into the lynx’s voice. “I apologize sincerely. I’m afraid even our technology can’t completely eliminate nature’s mistakes. We’ll transfer your donation to Lycantant 697.”

 

“ _Mistake_?”

 

The lynx’s head jerked up, ears pinned forward. “I’m sorry?”

 

“No. You’re not giving my DNA to anyone but him.”

 

Jupiter said it softly. She turned her wrist, letting the black bracelet dangle and then rolled her sleeve with fierce determination.

_What am I doing?_

_Not making a mistake, that’s what. He could never be a mistake. Right?_

_Right._

 

Jupiter straightened. “Well? I’m 696, aren’t I? The donation is meant for him.”

 

“... you’re sure?”

 

“Do it.”

 

It was clear the lynx found her odd… foolish even, but that professionalism reasserted itself quickly. She executed a small bow and produced a wicked looking needle, wasting no time now that a decision had been made. Within seconds Jupiter felt the aching pierce along her arm, drawn-out pressure, the relief of the needle slipping free. The lynx held her blood up to the artificial light and examined it closely.

 

“It will be processed, diluted, and added to his makeup with the week,” she said, casting another glance at the tank. This time there might have been regret in the lines of her eyes and the twitch of her whiskers. Regret for her assumptions, or that Jupiter’s human DNA would go to a runt?

 

Inconsequential thoughts given the situation. What _was_ this? Something terrifying. Of course. But also something… needed?

 

Jupiter nodded, taking a stumbling step forward. She felt bewildered and grounded simultaneously, a heady cocktail that left her head afloat. She’d lost only a small vile of blood, but Jupiter felt like she’d gained something immense in return. When she spoke again her voice was etched and crackling.

 

“What’s your name?” she asked.

 

The lynx startled, eyes blowing wide—the expression comical after so much seriousness. Her tail began whipping in a frenzy before her own voice sounded, nearly as scratchy as Jupiter’s.

 

“We don’t—”

 

“—accept names here. I know. Won’t you tell me anyway?”

 

“... Kat.”

 

Jupiter smiled, bright and brilliant and startled. She looked directly into 696’s tank and marveled at her reflection superimposed over that body.

 

“That’s a lovely name,” she said, reaching one hand out towards the glass. “Did you know that his name will be Caine?”

 

She didn’t register Kat’s look of shock, or how her own furred hand reached for Jupiter as surely as Jupiter reached for Caine. The moment her hand made contact Jupiter was wrenched backwards. Just one second of her hand aligning with Caine’s developing one, just an inch of glass between them, before Jupiter was sinking, tumbling through darkness once more.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Right? So you can imagine how I’ve been a little thrown by all this. I’ve gotten used to weird lots in life—don’t get me started on what happened last summer—but this? This is a bit too high up Strange Street, even for me.”

 

The bird merely stared at Jupiter, cocking its head this way and that. It was a bit like a pigeon, if pigeons were the size of poodles and stood unnervingly still. Jupiter was pretty creeped out by it truth be told, but it had been the only thing willing to listen to her the past twelve hours. With a sign she broke off a piece of bread and tossed it to the bird, grumbling when that made it hop even closer to her bench. Jupiter subtly eased back.

 

“Please don’t come any closer,” she told it. “Nothing personal, but you’re half my size and the birds back home do _not_ have teeth like that.”

 

The ‘pigeon’ chittered, showing off double rows of pointed canines.

 

“Exactly.”

 

Jupiter had landed on this planet last night, when the surrounding stores were closed and the streets deserted. It had been the same sort of landing as the first time around—jarring stop, lots of pain, opening her eyes to find herself sitting perfectly straight—and Jupiter had immediately known she was on a new planet from the gravity, far more forceful than anything she’d experienced before. Ten minutes in and she’d been exhausted just moving her limbs. Small favors, but she’d been ridiculously thankful for the new change of clothes: a dress made of a material so thin if felt like wearing air. The night had been hot and the day had just gotten hotter.

 

Jupiter waved a hand, feeling the strain in her muscles. Maybe she’d come out of this buff.

 

“It doesn’t make any sense,” she said, tossing another piece of bread out. The ‘pigeon’ caught it with a _snap!_ “One minute we’re on the Aegis, yeah? A nice, simple cruise. Off to talk splicing rights with some of the legion higher ups... then bam! These aliens show up. The Entitled. _Apparently_. They clamp this thing on my wrist, talk about testing me— _what?_ —and before I know it I’m waking up in something straight out of a dystopian Sci Fi. You know what’s traumatizing? _Finding your boyfriend growing in a tank._ ”

 

Not that that wasn’t wonderful, in its own way. Seeing Caine was still _seeing Caine_ , even if it hammered home exactly how different their births had been, their upbringings and privileges. Jupiter didn’t think she could ever get that image out of her head: her trembling hand covering Caine’s half-formed one, the glass crisp and cold between them. It was beautiful… but she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell a ‘pigeon’ that.

 

Jupiter took a big bite of the sandwich, despite the look it earned her from said ‘pigeon.’ She had to eat too okay, and it wasn’t like she could rely on running into any more kind old alien ladies.

 

“I mean I knew,” she said, working on some kind of chewy, unidentifiable meat. “But seeing it is totally different. Especially when, what? You’ve been chucked into the past? I don’t even know. That’s the problem. But you know what’s a larger problem? When you buy too much into fate and the need to spite a lynx who insults your lover, so you decide that the best course of action is _to give my boyfriend your DNA_.”

 

With a groan Jupiter buried her head in her hands, just barely keeping the sandwich out of her hair. She glanced morosely at her ‘pigeon’ friend.

 

“That was probably a stupid decision, huh?” she asked it. “I just got so _mad_. Everyone goes on about how I’m so Good and Caine is so Bad but why _shouldn’t_ he get my DNA? Because he was a runt? Screw that, he deserves the best! Of course he does—but why am I even considering this in the first place? Stop kidnapping me! Stop chucking me through time! Stop changing my clothes! I just wanted to make my own decisions for once and help Caine and I DIDN’T THINK ABOUT THE INCESTUAL IMPLICATIONS ALRIGHT.”

 

In a fit Jupiter threw the sandwich, meat and bread flying in all directions. A millisecond later she was pulling her legs up onto the bench with a squawk, a whole mass of those birds descending from seemingly nowhere, laying into the sandwich like a pack of hungry lions on a gazelle. Jupiter’s eyes blew wide as she saw bits of blood flying out from the white chaos—the ‘pigeons’ apparently turning on their neighbors as well .

 

“I’ve got to get home,” Jupiter whispered.

 

She did sometimes wonder if her life could get any weirder. After she’d woken up, taken time to appreciate her light clothes and the lack of people around to question her, Jupiter had spent the night and early morning essentially moving between panic and lousy attempts at planning. She knew next to nothing about the Entitled, why they’d send her to the moment of Caine’s creation, what awfulness she might have done by giving that blood sample, and she certainly didn’t know how to get back home. Hell, Jupiter didn’t even know how much time had passed, either here or back on the Aegis. Probably a decent amount, given how hungry she was by the time alien shoppers had started flooding into the plaza. She must have looked unhinged—a being lacking the blue skin of this planet’s residents, furiously tugging at a black bracelet on her wrist. One shriveled shopper had placed a creaky, three-fingered hand on Jupiter’s shoulder, chattered something she couldn’t understand and given her a sandwich. Food calmed her a bit, at least enough to spill her guts to a mutant bird.

 

The swarm had dispersed now. Her feathered ‘friend’ was back to standing unnaturally still, just staring at her. It had flecks of blood surrounding its beak. Jupiter hesitantly lowered her legs.

 

“I haven’t got any more food,” she said. “But, uh, if you’re as intelligent as I suspect you are, and you want to help me out in exchange for that sandwich, maybe you could tell me a bit about time travel...?”

 

The ‘pigeon’ took off, four-foot wingspan throwing dust into Jupiter’s face.

 

“Right. Worth a shot.”

 

She was starting to draw attention now. The community’s day was well underway and Jupiter stood out like the proverbial sore thumb, everything from her white skin to the heavy way she moved screaming ‘foreigner!’ It seemed like these beings were pretty chill about aliens—maybe she’d landed in one of the stopover planets Stinger had mentioned—but sooner or later she’d run into their version of a police officer and Jupiter _really_ didn’t need to get space-arrested right now.

 

She couldn’t tell them she was Entitled either. Depending on _when_ she was, that could cause all sorts of horrific problems. Jupiter was pretty relieved now that Kat had refused to take her name. Another small thing to be thankful for.

 

Maybe she could find a translator, or someone who spoke passable English or Russian (ha). Either way, Jupiter needed to figure out the date, see if anyone she knew was alive yet... still... work out who in her entourage was least likely to shoot upon hearing, “Hey! I’m your Queen from the distant future/past!” (Not Stinger. _Maybe_ Kiza).

 

“This sucks all around,” Jupiter muttered.

 

She stood heavily, planning to move off when a bright spot of color caught her eye.

 

Not unusual in itself. The residents were all tints of blue and their architecture was as bright as a kid’s first painting. Still, there was something about this shade that drew Jupiter in... distinctly familiar... and when she turned just a bit, the sun bounced off a series of sharp, pointed objects.

 

Spikes.

 

Jupiter’s mouth dropped open, spotting the Entitled sitting in a cafe across the way.

 

 

 


End file.
